


Temptation

by Thighz



Series: OW Tumblr Shorts [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Body Worship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Past Relationship(s), Post-Recall, Prosthetic Limbs, Public Blow Jobs, because you never really stop loving someone, hinted future mchanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 04:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20168260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighz/pseuds/Thighz
Summary: Hanzo closes his eyes, allowing himself a moment of remembrance for the life he led when he was young.





	Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> Doomzo is good and you can all fight me.
> 
> _Enjoy_

Hanzo has only been with Overwatch a handful of months before Akande’s break from prison wakes the watch point. Shock ripples through the older members, questions from the newer ones. 

Hanzo says nothing. Genji side-eyes him once, twice from where he sits across the rectangular table. 

Winston rubs a hand down his face, “Intel says that he’s making the rounds before joining back with the council. We have a very short window to capture him.”

Genji raises his hand half way, “We should send Hanzo.”

Hanzo sends a sharp scowl his brothers way, mouth open to retort.

“We need someone capable of capturing him.” Angela insists, “Hanzo is not close combat compatible. We should send the same team as last time.”

“ _ No. _ ” Winston’s voice is rough when he says it and Tracer gives a little wince.

“Hanzo has-.” Genji begins.

“Genji.” Hanzo keeps his voice steady, but the anger in his words does not go unnoticed by the cyborg. Genji’s head tilts. 

“We could use a sniper.” Soldier mutters, flipping through the photos of Doomfist’s escape from prison. 

Winston grunts, rolls his eyes to the ceiling, “Fine.”

The meeting dismisses, Soldier tells the team to meet at the transport in twenty minutes. Hanzo already knows Genji will be waiting in the hall for him. Sure enough, he’s leaning against said wall, arms crossed over the glowing lights on his chest.

Hanzo heaves a sigh and comes to a rest in front of him, “Speak your mind.”

He doesn’t need to see the frown on Genji’s face to know that it is there. 

“You have experience with him.” Genji keeps his voice low, as the members are still emerging from the meeting room. 

“That does not mean I can do anything to help.” Hanzo says through gritted teeth. Akande was a part of his life he buried after his brother’s  _ funeral. _ He had not thought of the man in almost a decade. 

“You could talk sense into him.” Genji insists. 

Hanzo shakes his head, “You know as well as I that you can not force Akande to do anything.”

Genji scoffs, turns his head away, “You seemed to get him to do plenty for you.”

He feels his fingers curl into the fabric of his pants and anger laces through him like a poison.

The years that separated them did not stop Genji from knowing exactly where to strike. Hanzo eases the anger away, squares his shoulders, “We were young then. The choices we’ve made have defined us in different ways.” 

Genji faces him once more, “You should still try. It is better than doing nothing.” His brother pushes from the wall and walks away. He bumps shoulders with McCree, who is hovering near the corner, waiting for one of them no doubt or both.

Hanzo swallows, watches Jesse give him a curious stare, despite Genji dragging him away. He turns away from that stare. He does not have time to tear apart and figure out the longing looks the cowboy sends his way. 

They depart from the watch point and arrive in a little over an hour. Soldier sends Genji and Jesse to the ground. Hanzo to the sky. 

He hovers near the entrance to the Talon hideout, two guards posted at the rear door. They are dressed in all black, typical gear, armed. 

“ _ You have a clear shot? _ ” Jesse asks. 

“Affirmative.” Hanzo mutters, knocking two arrows. He releases them in quick succession and watches as the guards fall. Jesse and Genji slip from the shadows, dragging the bodies away around the back of another alley. They return, give Hanzo a thumbs up.

“ _ We’ll take it from here, darlin’. _ ” Jesse says right before they slip inside. 

Hanzo relaxes his stance just so, eyes sharp as he takes in all his visible outlets. There are few windows, the building is brick. Any explosion would take both his brother and Jesse down with it. He shudders inwardly at the thought.

Genji updates him, breathing heavily, periodically. 

_ Still no sign of Doomfist. Might be a bust. _

Hanzo tucks his left side into a makeshift wall on the roof. Waits.

He feels the shift of the concrete beneath his feet before he hears the steps. His back is left wide open, but he quickly reacts, pulling an arrow back and facing the attacker. 

“Hanzo _ ? _ ” 

His breath stutters out, weak as his arms as the bow trembles even aimed perfectly. The tight feeling in his chest since the news of Akande’s release increases tenfold at the sight of him. 

Akande is not his in his gauntlet. He is wearing a white, three piece suit and a look of wonder and confusion on his features. 

Hanzo swallows the lump in his throat. Controls the feelings swirling around like acid inside his gut. 

Akande does not seem to care that Hanzo has an arrow aimed at his heart. He only takes steady steps forward, his shiny white shoes glinting in the waning sunlight. Hanzo can feel the sweat beading at the back of his neck. His comm is silent. His biceps ache from holding the position for so long. 

He is a fool to let his bow lower when Akande steps into his space. He  _ knows _ he is a fool and yet he allows Akande’s wide, warm palms to cradle his jaw. 

“ _ My dragon _ .” Akande whispers reverently.

Something old, something  _ ancient _ shivers inside of him.

Plump lips graze his forehead, trailing down his hairline to his temple. Akande’s big body nearly engulfs him against the wall. Hanzo closes his eyes, allowing himself a moment of remembrance for the life he led when he was young. 

So many evenings lounging against this man’s chest, his hair melting over naked shoulders and brushing the dark skin under him. Warm hands trailing down his spine, his thighs, over the brilliant blue markings along his arm. Words in his own tongue and a foreign one pressed hot to the skin of his neck with every thrust inside of him. 

Hanzo’s last memory of Akande was on the deck near his koi pond, the night clear and stars scattered across the sky. Akande was a welcome weight between his legs, his-

Hanzo opens his eyes, faces Akande head on, but does leave the warmth pressed along his front. 

Akande’s smile is gentle, despite the sneer Hanzo had seen in numerous photos of him over the years. His thumbs brush along Hanzo’s cheekbones, rough and calloused from years of fighting in prison. 

“You are older.” Akande murmurs, fingering the gray at Hanzo’s temples. 

“It has been-.” Hanzo takes a deep breath, “Many years.”

Akande pulls back just a bit, “That it has.” 

“Why have you not killed me?” Hanzo asks, curious.

“Why are you here?” Akande asks, just as curious, “Last I heard, you were killing for profit, your family's empire in ruin.” 

“I killed my brother.” Hanzo whispers and even with the knowledge that Genji is alive and well, helping Jesse clear out a talon hideout beneath him, his throat still tightens with emotion. 

Akande’s face gentles, fingers tightening at Hanzo’s jawline, “I know.” 

“I am just wandering.” Hanzo says, cautiously, “I saw your release on the news.” 

“I had help.” Akande grunts, “I have taken my place in Talon. My rightful place in this war. As one of its leaders.”

Hanzo lifts an eyebrow, “A prestigious honor. Talon is-.” He’s not sure how to word it. 

Talon is despicable in every sense of the word, but one wrong word and Hanzo is dead. He has already let his guard down enough for a killing blow to be delivered. He has no doubt Akande is armed. 

“Join us.” Akande insists, his voice rises an octave in excitement, “Hanzo, you should consider joining us, I think we would see eye to eye.” 

Hanzo huffs, shoulders dropping, “Akande-.” 

“Do not refuse.” Akande whispers, urgent, “My dragon, I could offer you so much more than your empire.”

“I know.” Hanzo’s voice wavers, just slightly, “But I would have little to gain from such an arrangement. No. I must find my own path.” 

Akande’s sigh is heavy, his mouth presses to Hanzo’s temple once more, “That is not what I wanted to hear.” There is a threat under the disappointment in his tone. 

Hanzo’s instincts spike.

“I have missed you, Hanzo.” 

_ No, you missed what we used to be _ , Hanzo thinks darkly. 

Akande missed crisp nights and Hanzo’s inability to tell a handsome, intelligent man no to the greatest pleasure he’s ever experienced.

Hanzo missed it too.

“Why are you here, Hanzo?” 

Hanzo tips his head back to look at Akande. The man’s face is shadowed, not angry or impatient, but Hanzo has no choice but to come up with a lie. Or a half-truth.

“I was in search of you.” 

Akande’s hands tip his head back further, rough, face twisted, “You are  _ lying _ .” 

The kiss is hard, a clash of mouths that is borderline desperate and angry. 

Hanzo’s fingers tear at the fabric of Akande’s suit, yanking him down further, angling the kiss and deepening it. The years fall away as Akande cups the back of his neck, releasing his hair from its high tie. The kiss is hot, as hot as the air around them, even as the sun begins to set. 

Hanzo tries to keep an ear on his comm, but there is still only silence. 

Akande breaks from the kiss, lips lush along Hanzo’s cheek and down to his neck. His mouth sucks at the sensitive skin at the underside of his jaw, sending Hanzo’s pulse skittering with pleasure. His body awakens slow, careful, hesitant. 

One of Akande’s hands move down, down to Hanzo’s hip, gripping it tight. The other takes his exposed arm and runs hot, open mouthed kisses along his artwork. He breathes words into the ink, old words in his native tongue. 

Hanzo shivers, falling back against the wall, heat flaring in the pit of his stomach. His own hands grip Akande’s shoulders as both hands divest Hanzo of his clothing. He parts them with practiced ease and of course he already knows the mechanics of it. How many times in their youth had Akande taken him on a dojo floor after a successful spar? 

Too many to count. So far back in their past.

Hanzo does not stop him.

Akande strips him of his pants, yanking one prosthetic free from the material and lifting it to settle on one broad shoulder. Lips press to the scarred flesh that connected his thigh to the metal of his leg. 

“You are still wearing them.” Akande breathes reverently, hot against Hanzo’s skin. His mouth trembles and for the first time in so many years, Hanzo watches Akande shudder. The bigger man buries his face in Hanzo’s thigh, so far from where Hanzo needs him most, where he knows Akande will end up. 

Strong fingers curl around the metal of Hanzo’s leg, stroking it, so at odds with what Hanzo knows those fists can do. 

Hanzo’s heart flutters, “Of course. You gave them to me.”

After his elders ordered him stripped of movement. After  _ they _ decided Hanzo had no freedom and he watched in horror as he freedom was ripped out from under him. 

Quite literally. 

The only satisfaction was the elders' faces when Akande learnt of what transpired. An anger Hanzo himself had never been faced with and hoped he never had to be. 

Akande was a storm of emotions, some Hanzo did not think him capable of having, with his rigid background and sharp mind. 

Then-

“Do you remember?” Akande asks against his skin, “The night I gave them to you?”

“Yes.” Hanzo breath hitches as Akande’s mouth travels higher, tongue warm and rough on the sensitive skin near his groin. His cock is begging for attention, something Hanzo is nearly unwilling to give, but his body betrays him.

He has  _ missed _ this.

“So unused to receiving gifts.” Akande’s free hand pushes his fundoshi aside, freeing his straining dick. The hand wraps around it, firm and tight, stroking to the tip and sending Hanzo’s fingers scrambling to hold on to the bald head between his legs, “So eager to put them on.” 

Hanzo’s lips parts on a moan as that mouth presses to the base of his cock, breath wet, fingers tight. His stomach quivers in pleasure. 

Hanzo remembers that night. 

Laid out on the deck near his koi pond, Akande between his legs, worshiping the connecting of metal to flesh. Hanzo remembers being sore and throbbing not just between his legs, but where the connection was made. His body so unused to the new body part, but his arousal insisting he let Akande continue. 

The pain and the pleasure had mixed like a perfect cocktail and Hanzo remembers watching the stars over broad shoulders, crying out Akande’s name, yearning for a different life.

He had been so young back then. So blind. So-

Akande’s mouth engulfs him in the present and Hanzo moans, long and low. A wide palm holds his hips to the wall, making sure he can not thrust forward. 

Akande himself sighs around Hanzo’s dick. He still looks every inch the gentleman in his pressed suit, mouth open around Hanzo’s cock. 

It does not take him long to come. The rush of emotion, the years bleeding into the present day. Hanzo has been through too much and his body explodes. He mutters rough words in Japanese as he comes, fingers digging into the skin of Akande’s neck. 

A selfish part of him hopes his new talon buddies see Hanzo’s marks. 

_ Hanzo’s marks. _

Akande pulls away, petting at Hanzo’s thighs, lowering his leg and helping him back into his garments. The bow is set in his palm as the man rises to his feet before Hanzo. He thumbs at his bottom lip, a spot of white at the corner and Hanzo’s throat hurts. 

Akande kisses him, softer, sweeter than before.

He pulls away.

“I know you are will Overwatch.” He mutters into the space between them and fear spikes along Hanzo’s spine, “Please reconsider my offer.” 

Hanzo has missed this man. Missed what they were. What they could have been.

But he has Genji again.

And longing looks sent from under the brim of a tattered cowboy hat.

“I must refuse.” Hanzo states firmly. 

Akande shakes his head sadly, takes a slow, careful step back, “You will always have a place at my side, Hanzo.” He waves a hand casually, “I will not give up on you.” 

_ You should, _ Hanzo thinks.

Akande bows, practiced, something Hanzo taught him in another life, “Until we meet again, my dragon.” 

He straightens, pulls a pistol hidden at his ankle. 

Hanzo is faster and the arrow he releases causes Akande to jump to the left. Akande’s face twists into a mad grin, leveling the pistol at Hanzo’s head.

“As quick as ever.” Hanzo hears the safety click.

Hanzo takes a hesitant step back, hits the wall. 

“He was on this roof!” Genji’s voice is muted, but close. 

Akande’s face registers the voice, eyes narrowed.

“Dead, is he?”

Hanzo lifts his chin, “You do not know me as I am now, Akande.” 

Akande lowers the pistol, presses a button on his watch, “You  _ will _ come to me.” He sounds so confident, so assured, “Overwatch can not give you what _ I  _ can.” 

A helicopter rises behind the building, sending wind and dust across the roof. 

“That is not for you to decide.” Hanzo says. 

“We shall see.” Akande twists around the helicopter, boarding with ease and Hanzo spots the Widowmaker helping him inside. 

“Hanzo!” Genji and Jesse’s voices grow stronger.

The helicopter retreats

Hanzo is a fool.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for your continued support, comments, and kudos!


End file.
